Do you still think love is a laserquest?
by twelvetrop
Summary: A collection of one shot Peraltiago AU's, based on different Arctic Monkeys songs. The song I'm basing the story on will be the title of each chapter.
1. No 1 Party Anthem

Jacob Peralta walked around aimlessly across the packed house. He didn't really know whose house it belonged to, nor did he really bother to care. His friend Gina convinced him to go the party, so he did.

It's not like he had anything better to do.

It had been a couple of hours since he arrived at the stranger's house, and he was still to drink something decent or hear some good music. These parties were never great to him, but he still came because Gina insisted so much on it.

"There's lots of cool people and sounds, dude." She'd said. "I swear you're gonna love it. Oh, and bring your leather jacket."

"Why?"

"It's 70's themed!"

And in fact, it was. Most people had that 70's vibe around them, the gelled-up hair, the pointy clothes, the grunge look. But the music (and the environment, really) weren't up to that generational theme.

So, Jake half despised that party, half liked it. It was fun seeing all these young people (himself included) faking to be part of another point of time, but it was also clashing hard with the mood of everything.

That is, until a slow ballad started playing.

* * *

_So, you're on the prowl wondering whether she left already or not._

_Leather jacket collar popped like antenna, never knowing when to stop._

_Sunglasses indoors, par for the course,_

_Lights in the floors and sweat on the walls,_

_Cages and poles._

* * *

The previous song had been something loud and (to him, at least) slightly obnoxious, but it was something that got your body moving, and he could appreciate it. He was tapping his foot near the kitchen, trying to avoid the stares he got when people realised he was alone. This song, however, was moody and different from everything played. Around him, couples swayed to the melody, almost in a trance like state, keeping up with the beat of the drums.

* * *

_Call off the search for your soul,_

_Or put it on hold again._

* * *

He went to the hallways of the house and saw someone sneakily smoking inside the house.

"Shit." The person had said. "Pretend you didn't see this."

It was a girl, about his age. She tried to open the window, but her hand was still holding the lit cigarette, and she couldn't really unlock it and throw the forbidden item outside.

"Let me give you a hand." He said.

He opened the window for her, and after a quick defusing of the cigarette, she threw it outside. Then, she sighed.

"I'm going to go pick it up."

"Want some company?"

"Are you trying to be nice or do you just want to get in my pants?" She eyed him suspiciously.

"Just trying to be nice." He grinned, and she regarded him with more suspicion. "Look. Cross my heart and hope to die." He did the gesture on his heart.

"Wrong side. You're swearing on your lung."

"What? No, the heart is on this side."

"Sure, bud. Whatever you say." She started moving. "Are you coming?"

He followed.

* * *

_She's having a sly indoor smoke._

_She calls the folks who run this her oldest friends._

_Sipping a drink and laughing at imaginary jokes._

* * *

A few moments later, they were in the kitchen, and she threw her illegal cigarette in the trash can.

"There. Now the grass can't complain, and my consciousness is clear." She said.

"You think you have the moral high ground?"

"This isn't Star Wars, you don't have to act like Obi-Wan around me, sir."

"Nerd."

"Jackass."

They giggled.

"Hi. I'm Jake. Jake Peralta." He stretched his hand.

She shook it. "Amy Santiago."

"Nice handshake!"

"I took a seminar."

He looked bewildered, and she laughed.

"It was fun, actually."

* * *

_As all the signals are sent, her eyes invite you to approach,_

_And it seems as though those lumps in your throat,_

_That you just swallowed have got you going._

* * *

"Is this song on repeat or is it just me?" He asked her, after a while.

She shrugged. "It's a nice song. I can't really complain. The other songs weren't bad, per se, but they weren't good either."

"Right?"

"It's the usual though, and I can't complain. It makes my body move."

"Did you even drink anything?"

"Not really."

"Same here."

* * *

_Come on, come on, come on,_

_Come on, come on, come on,_

_Number one party anthem._

* * *

"Okay so, drink one! What are we dedicating this drink to-slash-for?"

"For slow ballads!" Amy said.

"For slow ballads!" Jake repeated.

They drank the contents of the cup quickly. Jake was surprised when Amy finished before he did.

"I thought I was the champion at this! It's not fair."

"Well, sorry champ. But you've just been… defeated."

"Awkward pause there. You okay? It was one beer."

"I just get a little…" Amy stopped to think. "Spacey. Yeah, that's the word. Spacey."

"With one drink?"

"There's a whole scale."

"Oh, I want to see that."

"Only if I see yours… Peralta."

Jake laughed.

"Treating me by my last name?" He was grinning. Amy thought he looked cute like that. "I'll take that, Santiago."

* * *

_She's a certified mind blower,_

_Knowing full well that I don't._

_May suggest somewhere from that you might know her,_

_Just to get the ball to roll._

_Drunken monologues, confused because,_

_It's not like I'm falling in love, I just want you to do me no good._

* * *

"So, drink two. What's this Santiago going to bring."

"I DON'T KNOW!" Amy was shouting.

"Okay, got it." Jake rubbed his ears.

"SORRY. I REMEMBER NOW. LOUD. I'M LOUD."

"I can tell." The alcohol in Jake's system made him be braver than he usually was, daring to ask her a question he would never have said normally. "Have I seen you somewhere around? I feel like I have."

"I WOULDN'T KNOW."

"God, I have to give you another drink."

"WHAT?"

"I SAID I HAVE TO GIVE YOU ANOTHER DRIN- why am I shouting? You can hear me just fine!"

Amy laughed loudly. "IT WAS A GOOD JOKE."

"Well, it didn't make me laugh." But he was smiling.

"YOUR FACE TELLS ME OTHERWISE."

"You know what three drink Amy does? I hope it's not yelling."

"YEAH, I THINK I DO."

"What is it then? Wait, don't talk, let me cover my ears first." He did as he said. "Okay, go ahead."

"I WANT TO DANCE A LOT."

"Hey, I'm always in the mood for a dance. And covering my ears still didn't work! Damn it."

"I FEEL LIKE YOU'RE KIND OF TALKING TO YOURSELF. YOU KNOW WHAT THAT'S CALLED?"

"…train of thought?"

"MONOLOGUE."

"Nerd."

"VERY FUNNY."

* * *

_Come on, come on, come on,_

_Come on, come on, come on,_

_Number one party anthem._

_Come on, come on, come on,_

_Before the moment's gone,_

_Number one party anthem, yeah, yeah._

* * *

Amy was dancing like a lunatic, and Jake was falling hard for those moves. He wasn't thinking clearly as well, downing three drinks in such a short span like that. But he really liked how she moved, how she looked, how she talked. He was falling for this girl he'd just met.

Amy was trying not to process her feelings, choosing to dance them away. But the thoughts kept creeping in. He was cute, hell, he was hot. And charming. And she liked how he smiled, and when his hands brushed her hips when she looked like she was about to fall. He felt secure.

But they'd just met.

"So, what is this stage called?"

"I don't know." Amy gestured to the air, still dancing. "Anything come to mind?"

Just then, Gina showed up.

"Who's dance pants lady over here?"

"Amy dance pants!" Jake exclaimed. "That's perfect!"

Gina rolled her eyes. "You guys are clearly having a moment so…" She grabbed a random bottle from the fridge and disappeared back into the house.

"I hate this."

"Just stop dancing."

"I can't!"

"Then try to at least dance to the rhythm of the song!"

"I don't know how to!"

Jake, who was siting on the kitchen aisle, went up to Amy.

"Can I?"

"It's probably 'may I' you mean, not 'can I'."

"Stop being a nerd and answer the question."

"Depends on what the thing you want to do is."

"I want to guide your crazy dance moves."

"But you're drunk too!"

"I'm fine."

"That's what drunk people say."

He rolled his eyes. He was mad she was right.

"Look just, trust me all right? I'll promise not to do anything inappropriate."

"That just makes me more suspicious."

"What can I do to make you trust me?"

Amy's sporadic movements were the only thing breaking the silence.

"Okay, fine. Guide me."

He smiled.

"Okay, follow my lead."

Placing one hand on her hip and another on her shoulder, they both stood still. The music swelled to the bridge, and Jake tried to make Amy follow his logic.

* * *

_The look of love, the rush of blood,_

_The "she's with me"'s, the Gallic shrug,_

_The shutterbugs, the Camera Plus,_

_The black and white and the colour dodge,_

_The good time girls, the cubicles,_

_The house of fun,_

_The number one party anthem, oh._

* * *

The dance went as well as expected. Being both slightly drunk, they tripped, they stepped on each other, they giggled, they laughed, they stopped dancing.

"Okay, you were right."

"Told you so."

"Why are you such a smart ass, anyway?"

Amy looked at him, with an inquisitive look.

"Smart ass?"

"Okay, I didn't mean to phrase it like that. I meant it more like, in a way that you seem to know everything." He laughed. "Except dancing, of course."

She blushed. "Hey, you couldn't dance, too!"

"I only couldn't dance because you kept stepping on my feet!"

"Hey! You know what, usually I'd say I'm a bad dancer, but you wouldn't stop swaying from side to side!"

"Did not!"

"Yes, you did!"

* * *

_Come on, come on, come on,_

_Come on, come on, come on,_

* * *

They were bickering, slowly approaching one another, without the other realising.

* * *

_Come on, come on, come on,_

_Come on, come on, come on,_

* * *

Their faces were closer than they'd ever been, but they kept talking.

* * *

_Before the moment's gone,_

* * *

And then they kissed. It wasn't a drunk kiss (though they were still somewhat drunk), but more of a natural attraction of two poles. They kissed, they giggled, they kissed some more, they talked.

* * *

_Number one party anthem,_

_Number one party anthem,_

* * *

They exchanged phone numbers, and they kept talking. A few months later, they began dating.

* * *

_Number one party anthem, yeah, yeah._

* * *

"Give it a few years, and they'll get married." Gina said to someone that night. Little did she know, a few years after graduating college, she'd be at her best friend's wedding.


	2. Star Treatment

Amy Santiago was stuck at the airport. Again. Sighing, she sat in one of the many free chairs on the airport lounge, waiting to hear news on her plane. Then, she got a call.

"Ms. Santiago?" Said the voice on the other end.

"It's her speaking."

"We're sorry to inform you that your flight has been cancelled."

"When's the next flight?"

"At 5 AM, ma'am."

Amy sighed inwardly. "I'll book that flight."

"Thank you, and we're sorry for the inconvenience."

The call ended with a familiar click, and Amy was thrown back to the quiet atmosphere. She glanced at the clock on the wall. It read 11 PM. She let her head drop on the table and cursed her situation.

Why did she even decide to become a writer? She'd reached fame, and her books were worldwide bestsellers. She was touring for the final book in her collection of murder mysteries, which were praised for realism and suspense. Really, though, she just went to police precincts and asked around for good murder cases. She mixed, twisted them and formed her own vision so it didn't feel too much like reality, but it also wasn't divorced enough to appear fantasy. She'd credited every detective she'd ever worked with, though, because she felt like they deserved it. She even tried to give them a share of the profits, but most of them denied the offer.

Still, Amy was tired of murders. She found herself writing poetry when she wasn't paying attention or writing some short romances. That's why, in a bold move, she decided to kill off the main character in the murder saga. It was fitting, as a way of moving on. They were dead and buried, and maybe their legacy with them.

The airport's stereo played some generic waiting music, some piano keys, a guitar here and there. She wanted to rent a hotel room and sleep those precious five hours, but she was afraid she'd miss her flight. And she couldn't miss flights.

Just then, something different started playing.

* * *

_I just wanted to be one of The Strokes,_

_Now look at the mess you made me make,_

_Hitchhiking with a monogrammed suitcase,_

_Miles away from any half useful imaginary highway._

* * *

It held a different mood from the other songs, only from the fact that it had lyrics.

"Hey, you all right?" A voice asked her.

Still with her head on the table, she did a thumbs up.

"Can I join you?"

Amy nodded, and the stranger somehow got it and sat across from her. At least that's what it sounded like.

"Cancelled flight, huh?"

"Yeah. Don't even get me started."

"Same here." The person sighed.

"When's your flight?"

"5 AM."

She lifted hear head and looked at the stranger for the first time. It was a man, probably about her age, with brown eyes and curly hair.

"That's some coincidence. Where are you headed, again?"

"I didn't say where I was headed."

She rolled her eyes. "It's a question, I'm not asking you again in a literal sense."

"Oh." He scratched his neck, awkwardly. "Uhm, New York."

"Jesus. That's two coincidences already."

"You're heading there too?"

"If it isn't apparent." She said, dryly.

He raised his hands.

"Kind of aggressive, no?"

"If a stranger approached you out of nowhere and asked where you were going, you'd have your guard up, wouldn't you?"

"Yet you still let me sit with you."

"Not with me, across from me."

"Potato Potahto. We're at the same table."

She glared. "Why did you say it with potatoes?"

"What?"

"People usually say 'tomato tomahto'."

He put on a funny face. "I guess I'm not like most people."

She giggled.

"Made you laugh!"

"Only because it was so dumb." She noted.

"Does that mean you trust me?"

"Obviously not."

"Then let's take this to the next level." He said, with a mischievous look on his face.

"Excuse me?" Amy was just about ready to book it, maybe throw her luggage and bolt to security.

"No, not like that. Get your mind out of the gutter. I mean, let's just give out fake names."

"Fake names?"

"You know, keep an air of mystery."

She stared at him. Where was he going with this? They were both adults, and this was a really childish game. But she wasn't in the mood to overanalyse things, or people.

"Fine." She said, after a while. "I'll play your game."

"It's only a game if you want it to be."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He ignored her question. "So, what will your name be?"

* * *

_I'm a big name in deep space, ask your mates,_

_But the Golden Boy's in bad shape._

_I found out the hard way that,_

_Here ain't no place for dolls like you and me._

* * *

"Dora. I'm Dora." She said, after a pause.

"Well, Dora." He stretched his hand. "I'm Johnny."

They shook hands.

"Want to eat something?"

"No, not really."

"Well, I do. Stay here and guard my luggage, will you? I'm just going to head to that." He pointed to a McDonald's behind her. "Don't try any funny business, I'll be watching."

"Why would I want to check your luggage?"

"I don't know. People want to do the craziest things."

She watched him head to the aisle and ask the clerk for something. Turning her attention to the television fixed on the wall in front of her, she zoned out.

* * *

_Everybody's on a barge,_

_Floating down the endless stream of great TV,_

_Nineteen eighty-four, Twenty nineteen._

* * *

"You're terrible at guarding suitcases. Remind me to never tell you to do that again." He said and set a coffee in front of her.

"Thank you." She felt the warm beverage on her hands and appreciated the heat. Her hands were freezing. "How much was it?"

He shook his head. "It's not a problem."

"Well, let me at least give you something in return."

He smirked. "Something?"

"God! You're a creep. I was in the restaurant area for a reason, Johnny!"

"To wallow in self misery?"

"No."

"To order any food you want?"

"No!"

"Then I don't know what other reasons there'd be to stay here alone."

"You're a dumbass."

"You're a nerd."

"How is that a bad thing?"

"How is being a dumbass a bad thing?"

She was shocked. "I mean, I…"

"Cat's got your tongue?" He smirked.

"God! You're insufferable."

She stood up, grabbed her luggage, and started walking away.

"If you follow me, I have pepper spray!"

He smiled at that, but she couldn't see it.

* * *

_Maybe I was a little too wild in the 70's,_

_Rocket-ship grease down the cracks of my knuckles._

_Karate Bandana. Warp Speed Chic. _

_Hair down to there. Impressive moustache._

* * *

Jake was wandering around the duty-free stores, asking himself why he didn't order more nuggets to eat. That's what got him in the chocolate aisle, thinking about how someone hadn't actually recognised him.

He was a singer, and he was a billboard artist. Sure, he never made a Top 10 song, but he somehow kept creeping in the Top 100, enough for people to notice him. He was a bit tired of the exposure, though, and was currently on a one-month hiatus. Which was probably going to extend for two months, then six, then twelve, then the whole year. He was just really tired.

Not getting recognized by that woman made his day though. They both even used fake names (Johnny and Dora? Who even chooses names like that!) to call off the scent from one another. Hell, maybe she was famous in her own circle of people. Whoever those were.

He didn't even realise where he was going, when he bumped into someone.

"Sorry- Hey! Dora!"

She grunted.

"Come on!" He said.

"You're annoying."

"You're a smartass, but you don't see me complaining."

* * *

_Love came in a bottle with a twist off cap,_

_Let's all have a swig and do a hot lap._

* * *

"Didn't this song just play?" Amy asked him, while opening her water bottle.

"They probably have a set of songs and just repeat them after a while." He said. "But I wouldn't know."

"That makes sense, though."

They were sitting in a metal bench, near the windows that lead to the runway. The clock ticked and read midnight.

"I guess." His soda made a loud sound as he opened it.

"Is soda all you drink? You're on your third one."

"It has oranges in it, it's healthy."

"Do you even read about what's in them?"

"Well, you're using a plastic bottle, so you're basically killing turtles."

"I recycle."

"Still."

She grunted again.

"If I throw my luggage at you, is it called assault or just a humanitarian act?" She asked him.

"Both."

"How… How is it both?"

"It just is."

* * *

_So who you gonna call?_

_The Martini Police._

_Baby that isn't how they look tonight,_

_It took the light forever to get to your eyes._

* * *

"This is a bad idea." Amy warned.

"I'm the king of bad ideas." Jake said.

They were still Johnny and Dora, and they grew used to the names. A new identity, someone they didn't need to hide.

"I can't believe you bought a Martini bottle."

"And some glass cups."

"Why would you waste that amount of money?"

"Why not?"

"So you could save it?"

"And not share a glass of Martini with the oh-so-mysterious Dora?"

Amy paused. "Well, if you're offering…"

"Ah! Only on one condition."

"What is it?"

"Don't fall in love with me." He looked serious, and Amy was taken aback.

"What?"

"Just kidding." He smiled, a goofy smile. "Don't break any of the glasses."

"Oh! Won't be a problem."

"Good."

* * *

_I just wanted to be one of those ghosts,_

_You thought that you could forget,_

_And then I haunt via the rear view mirror,_

_On a long drive, from the back seat._

* * *

"This isn't doing it for me." Jake said.

They drank only one cup of Martini, and then decided to just save the bottle.

"Can I keep the bottle?" She asked.

"Sure." He was gazing towards the starless sky, into that black abyss.

She didn't pick up the Martini bottle. She didn't even drink the glass, honestly. She just poured it back on its container and sighed.

"It's sad, isn't it?" Amy said.

"What?"

"You can't see the stars. All this light pollution takes the beauty of the skies away from us."

"But it makes stars that much more special, don't you think?"

A pause. "I've never thought about it that way."

The black abyss stared down at them, and they didn't feel that alone anymore.

* * *

_But it's alright, because you love me,_

_And you recognise that it ain't how it should be,_

_Your eyes are heavy and the weather's getting ugly,_

_So pull over, I know the place._

* * *

"What time is it?" Jake asked.

"One forty-five AM." Amy replied.

"Fifteen more minute until two!"

"Only a couple more hours to go."

They were sitting on the floor, staring at the sky outside, the blinking lights of the runway and the buzz of the electricity in the room they were in as their only company.

"Time?"

"One forty-seven AM." Amy replied.

The clock ticked.

"You think there's any jukebox around?" Jake was really bored, and playing 20 questions wasn't an option.

"Like, an old timey jukebox? Those you see in movies?"

"Yeah."

"Doubt it."

"It's worth a shot looking for it, don't you think?"

"Why? Those old things probably barely work, nowadays."

"Maybe they've been restored."

"You have a lot of hope for an imaginary jukebox."

"It's real in my heart."

Amy yawned.

"God, I want to sleep." She complained.

"You can, if you want to."

"I'm not going to let my fate rest in the hands of a stranger."

"Got it."

However, Amy found herself slowly laying on Jake's shoulder and, after a while, fell asleep with her head supported in it. Soon after, Jake fell asleep as well, as much as he tried not to.

* * *

_Don't you know an apparition is a cheap date,_

_What exactly is it you've been drinking these days?_

_Jukebox in the corner, Long Hot Summer,_

_They've got a film up on the wall, and it's dark enough to dance._

_What do you mean you've never seen Blade Runner?_

* * *

Amy woke up with a start, and pain on her neck. She looked around, dazed and confused, rubbing the area that hurt. She saw Jake (or Johnny, to her) sleeping peacefully in an almost upright position. She looked around, only to find that their luggage was still there.

She got up, opened her suitcase, and took out her emergency blanket. She put it on top of him and watched him snuggle up to it. It was a cute sight. Hell, he was less annoying when he wasn't talking to her.

She looked at the clock. It read nearly 3 AM. She was asleep for about an hour or so.

Picking up her notebook from her still open suitcase, she started writing. It started as nonsense, words that didn't really end up anywhere, but it evolved as she got in the groove of it.

After some time, Jake shuffled and woke up. He rubbed his eyes and looked at Amy (or Dora, to him) scrunched up and writing.

"Shit."

Amy was somewhat startled, and closed her notebook fast. "You scared me."

"I fell asleep. Sorry."

"Hey, it's okay. I even put a blanket on top of you for not robbing me. And for us not getting robbed."

He clutched the warm material. "This is… so soft."

"Right? I love it. I call it my emergency blanket."

He smirked. "I was an emergency?"

"Not really. You just seemed cold."

"That's not the vibe I'm getting."

"You know, I like you better when you're not talking."

Jake went quiet. "Sorry."

Amy didn't know what to say, so she went silent as well. The large windows loomed over them, and the tension in the air was palpable. However, they kept staring at the sky.

* * *

_Maybe I was a little too wild in the 70's,_

_Back down to Earth with a lounge singer shimmer._

_Elevator down to my make believe residency,_

_From the honeymoon suite._

_Two shows a day, four nights a week,_

_Easy money._

* * *

4 AM was looming, and Amy decided to break the silence.

"You don't have to apologise for being yourself, you know?"

"What?"

"I didn't mean to make fun of you, or bring you down. It's just- you talk a lot. And I don't know how, but you have a lot of energy? And you never seem to be able to bring it down."

He smiled. "Thank you."

"I- You're welcome."

Amy was slightly flabbergasted. She didn't know what to say next.

"The effort means a lot, actually." Jake said.

"You're welcome, Johnny. Hell, you seem nice."

"Nice?"

"Take the compliment and shut up."

He smiled, but didn't say anything else.

* * *

_So who you gonna call?_

_The Martini Police._

_Baby that isn't how they look tonight,_

_It took the light absolutely forever to get to your eyes._

* * *

It was nearly boarding time, and Jake and Amy both stood in the line waiting to board the plane. Whispers surrounded them, but they were either blissfully unaware, or just chose to ignore them.

"You know, in the middle of all this, I never got your real name." Jake said.

"Should I give you that pleasure?"

"Your choice."

Amy pondered. She wrote a bunch of numbers on a sheet from her notebook, ripped it out, and gave it to him.

"You have a weird name." Jake said, looking at the piece of paper.

"That's my number, dumbass. Give me yours. And then, maybe down the line, we'll see who the other is."

"Well, we're both going to New York. That's a small town, right?"

"It's called the Small Apple for a reason."

They both laughed, but Jake gave Amy his number anyway.

* * *

_And as we gaze skyward, ain't it dark early?_

_It's the star treatment._

* * *

The plane ride was spent sleeping, for both Jake and Amy. Both had dreamless sleeps, wishing that their minds could conjure something to happen. After the plane landed, Jake and Amy found each other again and talked until they caught their own separate cabs.

* * *

_Yeah, and as we gaze skyward, ain't it dark early?_

_It's the star treatment._

* * *

New York was where both Jake and Amy lived, and it was also Amy's last stop of the tour. By luck, a week after the night where they met, Jake saw the faded posters with Amy's face in them, saying you could meet the author at a nearby Barnes & Noble, and some select local businesses. He took a picture of it, and sent it to 'Dora', which was speaking with him just a few minutes later.

She called him immediately after.

"Guess the cat's out of the bag! I'm a writer." Amy said.

"Amy Santiago, huh?"

"Yeah, that's my real name."

"Did you pick Dora because of Dora the Explorer?"

"You're just figuring that out now?"

"Jake Peralta says yes."

Amy laughed on the other end of the line.

"Peralta, huh? You would've made a terrible detective."

"Maybe if I'm in one of your novels I can be the joke character."

Amy ignored what he said. "You know, the name's familiar."

"As it should be!"

"Oh, you're that singer! Wait, I think I know some of your songs?"

"A fake fan already."

"Shut up. I bet you haven't even read any of my books."

"That is true. But only because I don't usually read."

"You're ridiculous! You write song lyrics, but you don't read?"

"Yes. That is true."

They talked like that for a while, getting to know the other properly, this time.

* * *

_It's the star treatment._

* * *

They met again one day, near Central Park, walking around, avoiding other people.

* * *

_The star treatment._

* * *

Soon enough, they were dating. It was natural. Jake helped Amy with her more creative side, and Amy helped Jake with his lack of organization. It was fate.

A few years passed, and they get married. It's a small ceremony, nothing too grandiose.

Amy did end up writing Jake into one of his books, a small romance novel about two people flying in the same plane and falling in love over the course the journey. He never told her, but he secretly read all her books after knowing who the other person was, and he could clearly tell that the man in the book was him. The morning after he finished it, he gave her breakfast in bed.

"What's this for?"

"I just wanted to treat my wife."

That got him a kiss.


	3. Piledriver Waltz

Jake Peralta was stumbling around the streets of New York City, a bottle of beer his only company. It was a cold afternoon, and the sun could already be seen setting on the horizon, casting a bright orange light that nearly blinded him.

"Eight minutes." He mumbled.

He wasn't talking about the time that the light from the sun took to reach the Earth, but he did wish the sun would just disappear, to not have to deal with it, and be plunged into eternal darkness.

"Eight fucking minutes." He mumbled, again.

He kept walking, the bottle still not empty. Soon enough, he found himself in a park. He didn't really know where he was, and he really didn't care enough to look for signs of where he might be. The sun was still setting, annoying his eyesight.

Frustrated, he finished the beer, and chucked it weakly at the sun. It landed on a nearby fountain, making a splash, and making him somewhat wet.

"God damn it!" He cursed his bad luck.

A little back, laying on a small blanket put on the grass, was Amy Santiago, watching this drunk stranger attempting to throw a bottle as far as he could, only to fail miserably. She laughed at that, and the stranger heard her.

"Funny, huh?" His speaking was slurred. "You know… what's funnier? My life. Because it's a joke."

Amy was slightly concerned now, both for her wellbeing and the stranger's.

"I can't do anything right…" He said.

Jake sat down on the floor, back against the marble support of the fountain, and started crying. Ignoring her gut feeling that the stranger might hurt her, she approached him cautiously.

"Here." She gave him some tissue paper. "Tears don't suit anyone."

He picked the tissue up and blew his nose. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"You know, most people would just let me wallow alone."

"You kind of are in my general presence. I would've either called the police or done something myself. Plus, I never leave the house without this." She showed him a small cylindrical bottle.

"What…" He hiccupped. "What's that?"

"Pepper spray. So if you try anything funny…"

"You'll blind me?"

"It doesn't blind you, but it does hurt." She sighed. "You know what? Take the whole pack." She handed him the pack of paper tissues. "I feel like you're going to need it."

"Thanks." Jake hiccupped again.

"I'm going to be right there, okay?" She pointed to the blanket. "If it's urgent, come talk to me. Otherwise, stay here."

"Why can't I go with you?"

"Because I don't know you or your motivations."

With that, she walked back to her spot, picked up her book, and kept reading. The sun was almost gone, so she'd be leaving the park soon, anyway.

"You mind if I put on a song?" She asked him.

He nodded, still crying a bit.

She picked up her phone and connected it to a tiny stereo she carried around with her. She'd put on some classical music, but now she was in the mood for something else. A last song before she left. Opening her music app, she pressed shuffle.

* * *

_I etched the face of a stopwatch,_

_On the back of a raindrop,_

_And did a swap for the sand in an hourglass._

* * *

As soon as the song started, Jake lifted his head.

"I know… I know this song."

"Really? I have no idea what song it is. Sounds nice, though."

"It's a sad song."

"Really? Sorry then. I can change it, if you want."

"No it's… it's fine."

The song kept playing. Jake stared at nothing in particular, and just tried to forget what happened a couple hours ago. Amy kept reading, blissfully unaware of the inner turmoil that he was going through.

The song soon finished, and Amy shut her book with it.

"How are you going to get home?"

"What…?" He looked at her, his eyes still glazed over.

"I'm calling you a cab."

"You don't have to…"

"And leave you here, in this sorry state?"

"You can call… call one of my friends to pick me up."

"All right. Give me your phone then."

After a lot of unnecessary effort, Jake got up and gave her his phone.

"Unlocked, please." She returned it to him.

He did as he was told, and she scrolled through his contacts.

"Anyone in particular I should call?"

"Re…Gina. Gina Linetti."

"Gina… Gina… Oh! Here she is."

She dialled her and stepped away from him for a while. Listening to these conversations were never nice, and she knew that.

A woman picked up after a while.

"Jake? Where are you? I'm worried sick."

"Hi, this is Amy."

"Ugh. Where's Jake?" She sounded annoyed at Amy, for some reason.

"He's with me. We're at a park."

"What park?"

Amy gave her directions.

"Okay, thanks. Can you stay with him until I arrive?"

Amy looked at her watch. She still had time.

"Yes, I can."

"Thanks."

"You're welco-" But she had already hung up.

Just then, Amy heard a splash. A much bigger one, this time. She turned around to see that the guy (Jake) had fallen face first into the fountain.

"Shit!"

She ran to him and attempted to lift him up. After some attempts, she threw her full force to lift him, and managed to make him fall on the floor. Fortunately, his head crashed into the grass, so Amy wasn't really worried about a concussion. She saw that he was still breathing, which was also a good sign.

"Jake?" She called to him. "Hello? Buddy, wake up."

Whatever happened to him, it must've been serious. She'd never seen someone so wrecked. And she'd been to some frat parties when she was in college.

"Jake?" She called again.

"Mhm." He mumbled.

"Oh, thank God. You're conscious."

He opened his eyes suddenly. She was slightly scared when he got up and went to some nearby bushes, but it made sense when she heard what he was doing. He was throwing up. Amy stepped towards him and rubbed his back.

"Let it all out. It's going to get better after this."

"Is it, really?" He said, in a small voice.

"It usually does."

* * *

_I heard an unhappy ending,_

_It sort of sounds like you leaving._

* * *

She waited with him until his friend came around. She leapt out of the car, picked him up, and went away without even saying thank you to Amy. She was slightly offended, but payed no mind. Some people were just like that. She looked at her watch and sighed. She was late, again. She texted the other person that she wasn't going to be able to go to the date and went to her car.

While she was driving home, she kept thinking about the man she was caring for. What he must've been through to get drunk like that. She hoped it wasn't a real problem, and if it was, that he'd get some help.

But, alas, she'd probably never see him again. At least she could rest that night without having to think about the date her mom set her up in, and how it would've probably been another disaster.

Arriving home, she set her stuff down on the table near the front door and took a shower. After getting dinner, she opened a bottle of wine, turned on her TV to a random documentary, and then went to bed early.

* * *

_I heard the piledriver waltz,_

_It woke me up this morning._

* * *

Amy woke up with the loud sound of a truck near her front door. Or, more precisely, those warning sounds trucks do when they're in reverse. Grimacing, she looked at the clock on her nightstand. It read 9:30 AM. She opened her window to see that it was a moving truck. Why it was so loud, she'd never know, but she did see someone enter the building with some boxes in their arms.

Who moved so soon on a Saturday? It didn't matter now, because she was fully awake. May as well get started with her morning routine.

Soon after getting dressed, she heard some commotion outside her door. Really, it was just a bunch of things falling. Immediately thinking that it may be one of the elder residents, she opened the door to help.

Instead, she found a man trying to put his things desperately back in on the boxes.

"Eight minutes." He said, under his breath.

She was confused by that but chose to ignore his comment. "You want some help?"

He turned around, and she could see it was the person that she helped yesterday.

"Jake, wasn't it?"

"How do you know my name?" He was on edge.

"You don't remember? Yesterday, you went to a park wasted."

His face flashed a lot of emotions. Hurt? Discomfort? Embarrassment?

"Yeah, I kind of remember you now."

"Well, good. Since we're neighbours now, it's got to make our life easier." She stretched her hand. "Amy. Amy Santiago"

He shook her hand. "Well, you already know my name but… Jake. Jake Peralta."

They stood like that, with an awkward silence between them.

"Well, if you don't want my help, I'm going back inside…"

"If you want to give me a hand, I'd appreciate it! Somehow, I'm not hungover from yesterday, so this isn't that hard, but there's a lot…"

She smiled. "Okay, sure! I'll help."

It's not like she had anything better to do.

* * *

_You look like you've been for breakfast at the Heartbreak Hotel,_

_And sat in the back booth by the pamphlets and the literature, on how to lose._

* * *

Jake sighed, and jumped on the couch.

"Finally!"

Amy stared at him. He looked tired. Not necessarily physically (though they did waste all morning taking things out of boxes and putting them in their place), but emotionally as well.

"Well, this was fun. But I think I'm going back to my place."

"Do you have anything to do?"

Amy looked at her phone.

"No." She lied.

"Want to stay and watch Die Hard?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because I'm nice."

He seemed pretty harmless. Still, as good measure, you can never know.

"Hold on, let me just pick some things up at my apartment."

Quickly going back to her place, she picked up some popcorn, her pepper spray can (which she hid in her jeans) and texted someone really quickly.

She returned to his apartment, only to find him scouring the place.

"What's going on?"

"I can't find my Die Hard DVD." He said.

She pointed to TV stand. "There? I remember putting some DVD's under the TV."

He hurried towards the wooden piece and gasped with relief as he took it out.

"Oh, thank God. I can't bear to lose more things."

Amy was silent at that.

"Maybe… I should go."

He looked at her.

"Rain check?" He asked.

"Rain check."

* * *

_Your waitress was miserable,_

_And so was your food._

* * *

Amy got home at 11 PM, tired beyond belief.

Another failed date.

The guy who she was supposed to meet the day before texted her when she was helping Jake moving in, and, at first, she said she couldn't go but, after that awkward interaction pertaining to a certain DVD, she decided to take a chance with him. He turned out to be an asshole, and she only stayed out of politeness. She did want to hit him with her shoe, though.

Taking off her high heels and putting them neatly near her other shoes, she stepped into her bedroom and put on her cosiest clothes. It was time for some reading, and then a good night's sleep.

Jake, on the apartment over, was lonely.

Die Hard didn't cheer him up. Taylor Swift didn't cheer him up.

He knew who could cheer him up, but they'd just broken up. Or, more exactly, she'd broken up with him.

He had to move out of her place on such short notice and decided to rent out this place, and, coincidence of all coincidences, the woman who saw him at his lowest point was his neighbour.

He groaned.

"Eight minutes." He said.

That was the time the light from the sun took to reach the Earth, yes. But it was also the time it took for Sophia to break up with him.

"Eight fucking minutes."

That's all it took for his life to be over. Well, that's what he thought, anyway.

He started laughing, loudly, trying to cover his feelings. He kept laughing and laughing, until the tears came and then he cried until he fell asleep.

* * *

_If you're gonna try and walk on water,_

_Make sure you wear your_ _comfortable shoes._

* * *

A few weeks passed since that first incident, and Amy and Jake didn't really talk. They said hi on the hallways when they passed each other, but that was basically it.

That was, until a bad night.

Amy was drunk. On her scale she didn't know how drunk she was, but she was stumbling and slurring, so it was good enough.

Another date went horribly wrong, and she decided to just get wasted after it with her friends. One of them drove her home and, after guaranteeing she could reach her front door, went to their home.

Amy was on the hallway trying to reach the door, but her key somehow wasn't fitting in the lock.

"God damn it!" She said.

Suddenly, the door opened. Out of instinct, she yelled and punched the face of the stranger.

"Ow! What was that for?"

Her mind took a while to clear, but she could see that she'd just punched Jake.

"Oh my God, Jake? What… What are you doing in my house?"

"Well, I could ask you that?"

"I- What?"

"You're at my place."

She looked at the number in the door. He was telling the truth, and she felt embarrassed by the whole ordeal.

"Sorry." She stumbled backwards, and Jake caught her.

"Woah, woah! Are you okay?"

"Slightly… drunk."

"On a scale from one to ten?"

"No… idea."

"Oh damn."

Soft music was playing from inside his place.

* * *

_Mysteries flashing amber,_

_Go green when you answer but the red,_

_On the rest of the questionnaire,_

_Never changes._

* * *

"Hey… that song…"

"What?"

"It's familiar."

"Come on, let's get you home." He closed the door of his apartment, and Amy stopped listening to the recognizable tune.

"I'm so tired…" Amy supported her full weight on Jake, and he grunted from the sudden effort.

"Hey, calm down! Just a few steps!"

"… minutes." Amy said in a barely audible mumble.

"Eight… minutes."

Jake was slightly surprised a bit at that, but tried to ignore her comment.

"Can I take your keys?" He asked her.

She nodded, and he took them from her hand. Opening the door, they both stumbled inside. Amy went to the couch immediately.

"Aren't you going to your bed?" Jake asked. "Do you want help getting there? I mean, as long as it doesn't bother you, or you don't feel uncomfortable with it-"

"No, I'm fine here. Thank you, though."

"You're welcome."

Jake was going to leave, when Amy asked him a question he didn't see coming.

"You know what happens in eight minutes?"

He froze. He didn't know what to say.

"That's the average time a photon takes to get from the Sun to the Earth."

"A photon? What does that even mean?"

"It's light. It's how much time the light from the Sun takes to reach us. If it went out, we'd never see it again."

"For being so drunk, you're speaking super clearly."

Amy suddenly got up and went to the bathroom. Jake heard some retching sounds and went to check on her sorry state.

"Hey, it's going to be alright." He held up her hair. "It's going to get better after this. Just let it all out."

She laughed, and flushed the toilet, closing the cover. Jake sat across from her in the bathroom, back to the wall.

"I feel like we've been through this before." She said.

"It's the good old switcharoo, I guess."

They both laughed. And then they started talking. The bathroom floor was uncomfortable, so they moved onto the living room. Amy changed to something more comfortable, and invited Jake to the kitchen.

"Are you going to make something?"

"I'm going to drink a lot of water so… yeah. And also, eat like an animal."

"Why not just order a pizza?"

Amy shook her head in disgust. "Too greasy for this time of the night."

Jake rolled his eyes. "There's never a time for being too greasy. Hey! That'd make a good title of your sex tape!"

This time, Amy rolled her eyes. "Just pick up some tea from that dispenser over there. Any one will do. Hot water ought to do well for my stomach."

"More like leafy water."

"Don't be smart with me, Peralta."

Jake played along. "You got it, Santiago."

They kept talking like that for the whole night, ending up in the living room couch. They didn't really stop, just dozed off simultaneously. Through the night, the pair shifted, ending up with Amy in a tight embrace by Jake.

* * *

_I heard the news that you're planning,_

_To shoot me out of a cannon._

* * *

Amy woke up naturally, only to realise someone was breathing right next to her. She froze, then saw the arms around her and realised they belonged to Jake. She calmed down for a bit, and decided not to move for a while, to see when he would wake up.

Meanwhile, she analysed herself, and the night before. She went on another Friday night date, check. It went horrible, check. She went to a bar with her friends and had an anxiety attack about how she was going to die alone, double check. She went home, check. Threw up and talked with Jake for hours, check. All was in place.

Jake stirred and woke up, only to find someone stuck in his arms. He was happy, until he realised it wasn't who he thought it was. This was Amy, not Sophia.

She seemed awake, so he coughed, and they untangled from each other. He kind of missed her warmth.

"Good morning." He said.

"Good morning."

"Not hangover?" He smirked.

"Obviously not. I have my talents at getting rid of them."

"Well, thanks for letting me stay over." Jake got up. "I'm going home to sleep off this sleepover."

"Sure." She looked at him. "Oh, you're serious."

"I'm always serious when it comes to sleep."

"Noted."

"I bet you actually write these things down."

"No, I don't." She did.

He laughed. "Okay, Amy. I'm going home."

"Well, goodbye." Jake opened the front door. "And hey, Jake?"

He turned around. "Yeah?"

"Thank you. For everything."

He smiled, an honest smile. "You're welcome."

And he left.

* * *

_I heard the piledriver waltz,_

_It woke me up this morning._

* * *

Months flew by, and Amy and Jake grew ever closer. They never talked about the other's fears, they were just there to cheer the other. When one of Amy's dates went wrong, she would knock on his door, and he'd always be there to cheer her up. When Jake felt like crying again, he'd knock on her door, and she'd always cheer him up. The system worked.

Until one night, when they decided to open a bottle of white wine.

"I can't believe you're mixing soda in wine." Amy twisted her nose in disgust.

"It's good man. You have to try it!"

"I'm not going to let you destroy wine."

"Your loss."

They were used to the other's presence now, and everything felt natural. They talked about their day, their jobs, some bad occurrences, some great details, a new show, a new movie. Anything that came to mind apart from emotional significant things.

Until, with the power of five drinks, Amy asked him something she thought she'd ever ask:

"Hey… you know that first time we met?"

"Me wasted in a park? Kind of hard to forget."

"You never told me what that was all about."

Jake went silent. Amy didn't know what to say next, so she filled her glass with wine, emptying the bottle. Not that there was much left, anyway.

"I'm sorry." She said. "It's clearly something sensible and I didn't mean to pry."

"No, no, it's okay." Jake sighed. "It's just hard to talk about. Even after all this time."

"You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to."

A pause. "Hell, I'm drunk, I don't have inhibitions. May as well tell you everything."

Amy nodded, and held his hand as reassurance.

"Things started off well enough…" He started.

Jake told her about his relationship with Sophia. How it started off strongly, even though their personalities crashed. He moved into her place after being a year together, and things felt better than ever.

"Guess I just missed the signs. I was just too lovestruck."

He went on to describe the last months of the relationship. Sophia growing more and more distant, and him turning a blind eye to it. Then, the fateful eight minutes.

"It all happened in eight minutes. I know it, because when we met, it was exactly 3 PM, and when she left, it was 3:08 PM. She was never one for extending things beyond the necessary, but it still hurt. Two and a half years just out the drain. She had already packed my things. I was devastated."

"Jake, I'm so sorry." They were both sober by this point.

"No, it's fine. I mean, it's not, but I'm getting by." She squeezed his hand. "You're helping." Amy smiled at that. "Though I don't think I'll ever be over her."

"You can't be sure of that."

"Hey, no one is sure of anything. That's just how life is."

They went quiet.

"Well, that was my big emotional moment. Do you have any?" Jake smirked.

"If I do have any, it's not going to be said today."

"Come on! We're in the zone."

Amy did want to tell him everything. Her crippling fear of dying alone, how her last boyfriend was great and caring, but also boring and too secure. He didn't feel right to her, so she dumped him. Ever since, she'd been on a string of mostly bad dates and, even when some went well, the second date or the third was always awkward. She didn't try to make things awkward, but she felt that maybe she came on too strong (asking if they loved binders wasn't really a smart move).

And she did. She told him that, and this time he held her hand, encouraging her to let her fears out.

They both cried, and they hugged, and their bond tightened. Maybe more than they were willing to admit.

* * *

_You look like you've been for breakfast at the Heartbreak Hotel,_

_And sat in the back booth by the pamphlets and the literature, on how lose._

* * *

More time passed, and Amy was going crazy. She was sure of one thing, and she really didn't want to admit it.

She had feelings for Jake. It didn't start off as strong as she thought it would, but she was sure now. Was she? Yes. She saw him everywhere. She somehow caught the name 'Jacob' in a crossword puzzle, and that's how she knew she was losing her mind.

She stopped going on dates after that night of confessions. She glanced at her calendar. That had been a few months ago, and she was sure she knew Jake for over a year now.

"What am I doing?" She asked herself.

She didn't want to throw this on him. She knew how much he still liked Sophia. Showing up at his house and going "Hey, I may like you, and I know you have no chance of liking me back!" wasn't really an option, but it was the only thing she could possibly do. Or maybe she could just take this secret to her grave. Yeah, that was worth exploring.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a bang on her door.

"Open up, Ames!" The voice from her dreams answered.

Great, now she was thinking poetically.

"Coming!"

It was Friday night, and what was usually the Disaster Date Day, had turned into Fun Fridays with Fanta (Jake had come up with both those nicknames, he wanted to keep the three words with the same initials).

She opened the door, and he barged in with pizza and, surprisingly, Fanta.

"Hey, you actually brought it this time!" Amy was shocked.

"I always keep my promises."

Amy just crossed her arms and glared at him.

"Okay, fine, I don't need that look." He sat down on her couch. "What are we thinking about watching tonight? How about…"

"We're not watching Die Hard."

"Come on! Please?"

"We've seen it three times already! Isn't it enough?"

"It wasn't in a row."

Amy groaned. "You're infuriating."

"Yeah, and you're annoying. Moving on."

Amy sat down next to him, and they kept their usual bickering.

_I could live with this. _Amy thought.

_I could live with this. _Jake thought, as well.

You see, Jake had fallen for Amy as well. He found himself thinking about her when she wasn't around, and he wanted to spend all his free time with her. He was pretty sure he was over Sophia (a year had passed, and all his friends had supported him through it all), and he was ready to move on. But Amy didn't seem interested in him, so he didn't make a move. Why? He wasn't sure. Maybe out of the fear of rejection, maybe because he was scared of losing their friendship.

Whatever the reason, he didn't want to lose Amy.

So, they both kept faking it.

* * *

_Your waitress was miserable,_

_And so was your food._

_If you're gonna try and walk on water,_

_Make sure you wear your comfortable shoes._

* * *

One night, that all changed.

Amy had lost all hope on getting through to Jake, and he had given up on ever making Amy like him.

"Truth or Dare?" He'd asked her, one Friday.

"Dare."

"Set one of your binders on fire."

She looked at him, mouth agape in shock.

He laughed. "I'm kidding! I'm kidding. Don't kill me."

"I'd rather set you on fire first."

"Ouch. You wound me, madam!"

She waved her hand. "Get Reginald out of this."

"Reginald appears when he damn well pleases. You know I can't control it."

Their banter continued throughout the night, a familiar warmth spreading through both, unbeknownst to the other. Until they've both had it.

"I need to tell you something." They said, in unison.

Amy raised her eyebrows, and Jake chuckled nervously.

"You first." He said.

"I think I like you. Like _really _like you. I don't know when it started or how but it did and that's how I feel for you. I've been bottling this up for so long but I have to tell you otherwise-"

Jake interrupted her. "Oh, thank God."

"What? What is it?" She looked at him, expectantly.

"I like you too. Romantic-stylez."

He reached for her, and she reached for him. And, in those moments, everything was fine.

_Oh, Piledriver._

A few months in their relationship, Amy was about leave his apartment, when something slipped out.

"I'm going to get some groceries. Love you, bye!"

She froze in the doorway. Jake stared at her.

"Noice. Smort."

Amy turned around. Jake sighed and kissed her.

"Love you, too."


	4. Cornerstone

"Come on, Jake. Let's go."

Amy was trying to drag Jake out of the bar. It was a Thursday night, and he refused to leave his seat.

"No." He pouted.

"Jake! I have to wake up early and you're my ride. Please!"

"Not unless you have a beer with me."

"I'm not letting you drink and drive."

"I don't want to drive, anyway."

She sighed. "You won't let me touch your car, and I need to go home. Jake, come on."

"Maybe I'll let you drive it this time."

Amy was surprised. "What?"

"Maybe I'll let you drive my fabulous car."

"It's a mess."

"It's perfect just as it is."

"It once broke down in the highway."

"How do you even know that?"

Jake was staring at her, surprise evident in his face.

"I was with you, idiot."

"You were?"

Amy laughed. "No, I wasn't. But you called me instead of calling someone to come pick it up."

"Oh." He remembered the deed. "Oh yeah! I remember that! I was just so confused."

"So, you called me."

"Of course. You have a binder for everything, I thought you might have a binder for highway accidents."

"I have a binder for car accidents, highway accidents are just a subcategory. Actually, there's a lot of-"

"Yeah, yeah, no one cares." Jake waved the matter away with his hands. "Why are you so eager to get home? You never have to wake up early, you usually just do that naturally."

"Are you kidding?" Amy glared at him. "Jake, I'm going away for a couple of months tomorrow. I've told you this! Do you even listen to what I have to say?"

"I… I do, but-"

"But what, Jake?" Amy got up and picked her jacket. "You know what, I've had it with you. I'm just calling a cab."

"Amy, wait! I'm sorry!"

She stopped and turned back to face him.

"It just feels like you don't care about me."

Jake was speechless. Amy left.

* * *

_I thought I saw you in the Battleship,_

_But it was only a look-alike._

* * *

Jake and Amy's relationship was complicated, to say the least. They met in college, Jake studying Criminology and Amy studying Art History. They soon became close friends, and then more than that. However, due to unforeseen circumstances, Jake had to drop out of his course, which left their love life strained. Amy was trying her best to finish her academic course, and Jake decided to enrol in the police academy. When Amy graduated, Jake was already a NYPD cop for some months. Amy kept pursuing her career in academia, and they both felt incredibly divorced from the other's world. So, they decided to break things off, on a permanent basis.

They tried to keep in touch, but their wildly different schedules didn't allow for much time to talk to each other, let alone meet and do something. The texts between each other went from weeks apart, to months, to none at all. They stopped contacting the other and moved on with their lives.

Until, one night, Amy got robbed. She had to give all her money and some belongings. Before the stranger could ransack her purse, she kicked him where it truly hurt and ran. She found herself in a police station a few hours later and approached the first person she could.

"Sir, could you please help me?"

"Of course." He turned around. "How may I help- Amy?"

"Jake? Jake Peralta?"

"The one and only!" He smiled widely, but then his expression grimed. "Wait, why are you here? Is everything alright?"

"I… Yeah, I'm fine! Well, I'm not, I was just robbed and-"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm kind of shaken, but I'm fine."

"Oh, God, you probably want to file a report. Follow me." He stretched his hand.

She gladly took it, and he guided her through the confusing halls of the police station, until she found herself in a desk, with the name 'Det. Jake Peralta' written on it.

He sat her down in a chair next to his and asked her to describe the events as well as she could.

"Take your time. No rush."

"Thank you."

She explained the events as best as she could, and Jake told her she did a great job. He also told Amy to wait there while he was going to talk to some people to see what he could do about her case.

So, there she sat. Staring at the desk of her former best friend.

"Detective, huh?" She asked to no one in particular, while holding the plaque.

He'd made it to detective. She was proud of him, especially because he was so crushed when he left college. That was years ago, though. Sometimes, she barely remembered those days. They seemed like a foggy memory in her mind, having to wave away at some parts to see others clearly.

She caressed the plaque, feeling the metal twist and turn to form his name. Weird how things ended this way. They seemed to have everything in their favour, back then.

"Miss me that much?" She heard him ask.

She jumped and put the plaque on its place. "I was just admiring the metal!"

"Nerd. And liar." He sat back down on his chair.

"Confident, aren't you Peralta?"

He smiled. "I'm always confident."

"Stupidly so."

Jake changed the subject. "I've talked to people, and they're going to scout the area to see if they find a man of your description around. Usually, these things get solved in about forty-eight hours, so the fact you reported this so early is probably going to help us – and you – out a lot."

"Wow, so professional! Definitely not the Jake I knew in college."

"I had to memorize this, to be honest." He stretched. "Hey, you know what? My shift's about to end. Do you want to go to a nearby bar and catch up?"

"I don't know… I'm still kind of shaken about the whole ordeal."

Jake nodded. "Of course. Do you want me to drop you home?"

Amy smiled. "I'd appreciate that."

"Do you want a police officer guarding your home tonight?"

She looked at him, flabbergasted. "God, I don't think that's necessary. It was just a street robbery, I think, and they didn't follow me. I really don't think it's something that has to be done! I'm good with you dropping me home." She started braiding her hair, unconsciously.

"Calm down, I was joking. I might've taken it too far though, sorry. I didn't mean to rattle you."

Amy calmed down. "It's fine! I'm just kind of stressed out."

"I can tell." He pointed at her hair. "I guess it's good to know some things never change."

She smiled, embarrassed, and he smiled back.

"Come on." Jake got up. "Let's get you home."

Amy stood up and followed him to his car. Upon reaching his parking space, Amy was in awe.

"You still have this car?"

"Of course! What would have I done with it?"

"Send it to the scrapyard?"

Jake looked genuinely offended. "I could never do that."

She reached for his shoulders. "It would be a merciful death."

"How can I kill something that's still alive and kicking?"

"We'll see about that."

They both got in the car, and Jake turned on the ignition.

"See?"

"I'll only testify of its safety if I reach home."

The drive to Amy's place was loud, catching up on the years that they hadn't talked to each other. Jake explained his story about how he went from cop to detective, and how he didn't really expect to even get so far in his career. Someone higher up inspired him, however, and he worked hard to be where he was. He liked to think he earned his spot in the upper floor. Amy looked at him, realising she missed his never-ending blabbering and nonsense, that was all still somehow down to Earth. Sooner than she expected, they arrived at her house.

"That's me."

"Noice. It was nice catching up with you!"

"It was nice catching up with you too!"

Amy left the car and shut the door.

"I'll just see if you get home safely from here, alright?" Jake yelled, from inside the car.

Amy did a thumbs up, and was about to cross the street, when a thought crossed her mind. She doubled back, opened the car door, and asked Jake for his phone number.

"So we can just talk, you know? I've missed talking to you."

Jake smiled, his goofy smile, the one she originally fell for. "Were you that attached to me?"

She punched his shoulder. "Do you want to keep in touch or not?"

He fumbled for his phone. "Yes! Yes, I do."

They exchanged phone numbers, promising to talk at least once a week. Jake saw Amy enter her building and drove off.

* * *

_She was nothing but a vision trick,_

_Under the warning light._

* * *

They talked for more than once a week. In fact, they talked nearly every day, talking about their days, their careers, how they were going. Anything that came to their minds they texted the other. Sometimes, they even met in person, when their busy schedules allowed it.

"You know, all this catching up, and I still have no idea what you do." Jake said to Amy, one night.

"Really?"

"All you do is complain about your co-workers, and their lack of organizational skills."

"That's not all I do."

"I have the screenshots to prove it."

"You screenshot our conversations?"

"Only the interesting ones."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged. "That's up to me to decide."

They both laughed, and Amy launched in an explanation of what she did. She usually evaluated pieces of art, trying to distinguish the period of history where they might be from or, if they're from a famous author, try to distinguish which era it might've been. She had written several papers on several subjects, but never something solo. She felt like she always needed a second pair of eyes and told her insecurities to Jake.

"Have you ever given it shot? A solo work, I mean."

"I have, but I don't know if it's any good."

"You can always talk to me, you know?"

"I don't know if you have what it takes to check these works out. No offense, but you're not really in the circles of academia." She grimaced. "Sorry if that sounded snobby."

"No, no it's fine." Jake nodded. "I understand. But you know, I do have to file police reports."

"Horribly, I may add."

"As I was saying! I file police reports. I think I understand the language enough to get a hang of things."

Amy thought about it. He was perceptive, surprisingly so. Maybe it wasn't a bad idea to check her writing by him, just as a failsafe.

"All right! I'm going to try the solo project! I even have a few ideas ready…"

"Yes!" He lifted his beer bottle. "To the future!"

"To the future!" Their bottles touched, and the sound of glass hitting soon faded with the noise of the restaurant. But they were smiling, and everything was all right.

* * *

_She was close,_

_Close enough to be your ghost._

* * *

Problems soon arose with their compromise.

Jake's availability to work soon became sparse, much to Amy's despair. She wrote too much for Jake to catch up, and she relied too much on him. He found himself constantly reassuring her that what he had read was great, before being drilled with questions about the content, which he had to answer in detail.

Needless to say, both were exhausted.

Amy eventually stopped talking to Jake about the content of her work, choosing to go in one hundred percent solo, failsafe be damned. She really didn't feel like Jake was helping her, though. He felt more like a positivity mine, one she hated exploring.

Jake was getting tired on his own end and was guilty to feel relieved when Amy stopped asking for her to check her work. Unbeknownst to her, he had spent a lot of nights researching her subjects, trying to understand as much as she was sending her. That made him lose focus on his work, making his detective skills somewhat sloppy.

Their meet-ups were less and less frequent, and both feared that they were going to lose touch for good, this time. However, they didn't try to reach out to the other about their insecurities, feeling they were a burden.

In one of those face to face meetings, Amy told Jake about her plans of spending a few months abroad, for research on her solo project. Jake nodded and agreed excitedly, but he didn't really register her words properly. When, the night before her leaving, Amy was so insisting on getting together, Jake agreed though he didn't really know why she was pushing it so hard.

At the time.

A few hours have passed since their last encounter, and they both felt awful. Wanting to contact the other, but afraid that they were still angry, both put it off indefinitely.

"When she's ready, she'll talk to me." Jake said to his empty apartment.

"When he's ready, he'll talk to me." Amy said to her neatly stacked clothes, now laying on her suitcase.

The empty feeling remained.

* * *

_But my chances turned to toast,_

_When I asked her if I could call her your name._

* * *

Jake spent a lot more times in bars, now. Not necessarily drinking, but always searching. Hoping to see her face, her neatly tied hair, her nervous demeanour when a big project was being made.

Jake missed Amy.

He missed her more than the first time around, and he had no idea why. Was he in love? No, he couldn't be. They'd tried that once, and it ended so badly that they stopped talking altogether. They were just good friends, that's all. Really good friends. The best of friends.

He let his head fall on the table. He was exhausted, giving himself more and more work, and not letting himself rest. It was a way to cope with his feelings, and he was making good arrest numbers, but his captain was worried about his health. As such, he made Jake take a few days off work, just to reset things.

It was his first night off, and he was at another random bar, somewhere in New York, near the college where Amy worked. Worked? Works? He didn't know where Amy was, and she didn't seem interested in letting him know.

He felt it was all his fault. Maybe if he hadn't compromised to proof read her work, maybe if he had never given her the idea to go solo, maybe if. All he could do was think of the "maybe if's", but there was nothing he could do.

Another thing ruined by him.

That's when he caught a glance of a ponytail, so familiar to him he could recognise it anywhere. He approached her, and soon a question fell from his lips.

"Amy?"

The person turned around, and he immediately regretted saying anything.

"Sorry, you must have me mistaken for someone else."

"Yeah. Sorry about that."

Jake sighed, got in his car, and went home.

* * *

_I thought I saw you in the Rusted Hook,_

_Huddled up in a wicker chair._

* * *

Amy was currently in Paris, watching the landscape through her hotel window. It was such a different city from New York, appearing to be chaotically spread, but organised in its own beautiful way. She almost wanted to do a whole essay on the city, but she was there for other reasons.

Those reasons were, of course, her solo project. Nothing else. She had nothing else on her mind. She definitely didn't feel her heart flutter every time she saw a curly haired head, only to feel it sink down when she realised that person wasn't Jake. She didn't care about how she missed drinking a beer in a good honest bar, instead of a coffee in a small cosy coffee shop. She didn't mind the fact that she knew some French and wanted to brag about it to Jake.

She was definitely all right. One hundred percent fine.

Except she wasn't. And she was just avoiding her feelings.

She picked up her phone and stared at her lock screen. It was a picture of Jake; a bet he had made about how long she could have him in her phone.

"All right, but only if you put me as your lock screen, as well. And!" A dramatic pause had come. "It has to be a nice picture."

"Okay. But it has to be taken now!"

"Deal."

They had shaken hands. And the bet was still on.

She refused to take the photo off her phone, even after she left in the way she did. Sometimes, she found herself staring at it from time to time, seeing him smile in the dim lights of the bar.

She sighed.

"I have to call him." She says out loud. It was midnight to her, and she didn't know if Jake was already off-duty. She didn't want to disturb him, so she sent him a message online (as to not waste any money, the expenses of international calls were insane).

And then, she waited. And waited. It was 1 AM, and she was still waiting, unable to write anything, constantly looking at her phone to see if something would appear on the notification screen.

Nothing appeared. She didn't expect him to reply, anyway.

Going to bed, she put her phone on the nightstand and sighed. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

_I wandered over for a closer look,_

_And kissed whoever was sitting there._

* * *

Jake ignored Amy's message, but he didn't do it intentionally. When he woke up to slide his alarm off, he did the movement one too many times and removed the notification off the home screen. You see, his phone had the annoying habit of removing the notifications from the icon and the home screen at the same time, so he forgot to check the social media apps.

It was, of course, a six hour time difference from Paris to New York, so why Jake was only waking up at 7 PM was his and his business alone (he wanted to take a nap, but he knew he'd oversleep so he just set an alarm to before dinner).

Stretching and cracking his back from having slept on the couch (which was surprisingly rough), he took up the simple art form of cooking himself some pizza. That is, takeout pizza.

Calling the number for his favourite pizzeria (Amy thought it was disgusting), he asked the usual (Amy liked pepperoni pizza) and sat back on the couch (Amy had never sat on that couch).

His mind was swamped. Sleeping didn't shake her off.

It was his third day off, and nothing seemed to have changed. Actually, things seemed to have worsened. He stared at his lock screen, Amy's smile in the blackened lights of some random bar they had met at.

It was a nice bet.

"So, what do we have to do if we lose?" He'd asked her.

She had thought for a second. "You have to write a decent police report."

"Do something that both of us can do!"

"I can write a police report for you! I think."

Jake had grinned. "All right then. I'll take that."

Memories kept flooding his mind, unaware of the message resting on his phone, awaiting to read.

_She was close, and she held me very tightly,_

'_Til I asked awfully politely,_

"_Please, can I call you her name?"_

Amy was on a flight to London, braiding her hair nervously.

"Ma'am?" Asked the person sitting next to her. "You're making me kind of nervous, braiding your hair so compulsively like that."

"Really? I'm so sorry." She stopped, embarrassed at her bad habits.

"No, it's okay, I can see that a lot is on your mind."

"Can I talk to you about it? Maybe a stranger's perspective will help me."

The person looked at her, a curious look on their face. In the end, they shrugged. "Sure."

Amy went in a long explanation about what happened, how she had left him in that bar with such an awful thing to say, how she felt guilty and justified at the same time. She told them how she felt about the thing, how she had been travelling for nearly six months and all she had heard from him was radio silence. Even when she had texted him.

"How many times did you text him?"

"Once."

"How long ago?"

Amy counted. "About four months ago."

The stranger nearly spat his water. "Are you kidding?"

"What?"

"No wonder he didn't reply! You only texted him once in two months? He probably thought you were joking, playing with his feelings."

Amy pondered at what they had said. "But I didn't mean it that way."

"At this point, you should know people assume things."

So, maybe this was her fault.

"Are you going back to New York soon?"

"Yeah. This is my second to last flight. I'm just doing a scale here, so I can fly from London to New York."

"Well, try to call him as soon as you land. Maybe, if you explain yourself, he'll understand."

She nodded. A few hours passed, and they both left the plane. Before they parted, the stranger said something else to Amy. Something she feared might be a reality.

"Not to scare you, but he might've moved on."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you clearly like him."

"Of course I like him. He's my friend."

"Have you thought about that from another angle?"

"What angle?" Amy realised something. "Oh. _Oh._"

"Be prepared for anything."

They hugged, and Amy went to catch her last flight, dreading what she might expect back home.

* * *

_And I elongated my lift home,_

_Yeah, I let him go the long way round._

_I smelt your scent on the seatbelt,_

_And kept my shortcuts to myself._

* * *

The past six months had been insane for Jake. He had broken his previous phone, and, as a result, lost all his messages. He was caught up in a big mafia case, only to have Major Crimes pick up the case file when he found the where the boss was located. His precinct had some harsh cuts, and some of his greatest friends from downstairs had to be let go. He had lost some of his passionate drive, making him solve less and less cases, and his paperwork was getting more and more sloppy.

As he was chasing a perp, he got a phone call. He didn't really feel his phone vibrating because he was running (which really made him realise how badly out of shape he was) after a perp. As soon as he reached the precinct, he was getting started on his paperwork, when he nearly had a heart attack at the missed call ID.

'Nerd', it read.

It was Amy. Quickly unlocking his phone, he called her back. The phone rang, and rang, until what seemed like forever, someone picked up.

"Jake?"

"Amy?"

"Oh my God, it's so nice to hear your voice."

"It's nice to hear yours too."

Jake quickly moved to the balcony, so no one could hear their conversation.

"How have you been? You never said anything."

"What are you saying? I texted you."

"No, you didn't. I was worried because you didn't even tell me where you were. Why did you even call me? To brag about how well you were off without me? Or is it something else."

Jake immediately regretted those word and hear only static from the other line. Thinking she might've hung up, he was ready to put his phone away, when he heard her speaking.

"Can we just meet? I want to explain things."

"Yes."

"At the last place we met?"

"Sure. I leave in a couple of hours, so meet you there?"

"Sure."

And they both hung up.

Amy swallowed dryly, Jake stared at the New York landscape.

Something didn't feel right.

* * *

_I thought I saw you in the Parrot's Beak,_

_Messing with the smoke alarm._

_It was too loud for me to hear her speak,_

_And she had a broken arm._

* * *

The bar they had met the last time was filled to the brim with people. Jake and Amy barely found each other, and they could barely hear themselves. However, as soon as they saw each other, the awkwardness dropped from the air and they hugged. They hugged like old friends do, like something had been missing.

"I've missed you so much!" Amy yelled.

"What?" Jake pointed to his ear.

She just motioned for him to follow her and held out her hand. He grabbed it, and she started moving through the crowd of people.

Soon enough, they were outside, gasping for fresh air.

"Oh man! That was hell inside!" Jake rubbed his ears, trying to get the ringing noise out his head.

"Tell me about it!" Amy was doing the same thing.

They just spent a few minutes near each other, staring at the cars drive by, hoping for the ringing to never fade.

"Want to head to somewhere away from the noise?" Jake asked her, breaking the silence.

"Sure."

* * *

_It was so close, so close that the walls were wet,_

_And she wrote out in Letraset,_

"_No, you can't call me her name"._

* * *

They ended up driving around in silence, the radio the only thing swimming in the middle of the tension between them. The only time they spoke was when they wanted to change radio stations or pointed out possible places to park the car. None of them seem satisfied with possible places, when a small park came around the corner.

"There." Amy pointed.

Jake parked somewhere near the park, and they both left the car. Ending up in a random bench, they kept quiet, the silence deafening. Both were dreading the conversation that was coming up, but neither made any advancement. It was like holding a finger on the self-destruction button, hoping the sweat rolling down the fingers would press it, and everything would just be an accident.

"So… six months? Where were you all this time?" Jake asked, the most basic question.

"Paris. I was there researching."

"Paris, huh? How was it to deal with Europeans?"

"Trés bien."

"Gesundheit?" Jake looked confused.

"That means 'very well' in French. You know, just some things you pick up here and there."

"Well, I'm glad you managed to learn so much."

A beat.

"I put people in jail." Jake said, nonchalantly.

"Well, that is your job. If you hadn't, that's be kind of a bad deal, no?"

He chuckled, but it wasn't real. "Maybe so."

Amy jumped into the conversation. She was tired of waiting.

"Hey, about what you said before, by the phone."

"What?"

"That I didn't even try to contact you. I did. I sent you a message."

"I didn't receive anything. And maybe sending more than one message wouldn't hurt, would it?"

"Well, maybe if you messaged me."

"Sorry?"

"It's not like you tried very hard to talk to me, anyway."

"You made it pretty clear that you didn't want to talk to me."

"I would never say that."

"It seemed like it."

"Jake." She gripped his shoulders. "I would _never_ tell you off."

His eyes watered. "You just looked so upset."

"I was, but it was mostly the stress talking. I care about you, okay? I really do."

"I…" Jake was at a loss for words.

"Yeah?"

"I care about you, too."

Amy smiled, and Jake smiled back.

"Are you crying?"

"No!" Jake said, wiping his eyes. "My tear ducts are dryer then the desert."

They both laughed. Things were fine, for now.

"You want to hear about the French? God, they're some weird people."

"Sure. But in return, you'll have to hear about a case of mine."

"That's a deal."

They talked until they got tired, glad to finally have the other around.

* * *

_Tell me, where's your hiding place?_

_I'm worried I'll forget your face._

* * *

They kept in touch. Not a lot, but the promise of talking once per week was delivered. They just wanted to make sure the other person was contactable. Sometimes, Jake would visit Amy by the university, so they had dinner together, and vice-versa, Amy would visit Jake at the precinct. Just so they could remember their faces. After so long without seeing each other, they wanted to remember each other's faces.

One time, Jake was by the university for surprise dinner, and knocked on her door.

"Come in." She said, her voice muffled by the wood.

He stepped inside, only to find her massaging her neck.

"Are you pushing yourself too hard again?"

"Shut up and give me my food, idiot." She stretched her hand.

He put her case in front of her, and started the usual conversations

"How are things going?"

"Tiring." She sighed. "But Teddy's being nice."

"Right."

Amy had a boyfriend for a few months now, and things seemed to be going well for them. When she told him, something in his chest dropped, but he couldn't tell why. It's not like he liked Amy, right?

"Your company is great too, you know?"

"Thank you."

"You don't have to show gratitude, Jake. I'm always here for you. I like to think you're always there for me, too."

_Anytime you need me_, Jake thought.

"Wow, emotional much?" Jake ended up saying.

Amy chuckled. "Sometimes."

"How's the project advancing?"

"It's going well! The research in Paris helped out a lot. Turns out that talking with pretentious Frenchmen for six months is somehow useful."

"What a bunch of snobs." Jake twisted his nose. "They think they're better than us why? All that gothic architecture and confusing street layout?"

"It is a lot more confusing than here in New York. When I came back, I almost kissed the ground because I was so tired of walking in circles."

"I can't believe the mighty Amy Santiago got lost."

"Look, they gave me an old map. And it was a tourist one, to boot! It had the monuments covering up street names, it was impossible to get around." She sighed. "Also, did you mention gothic architecture?"

Jake scratched his neck. "Maybe I read on the history of Paris?"

Amy was ecstatic. "Did you read about the Notre Dame?"

"I did, actually! That was a lot of fun to read about."

She smiled. "Nerd."

"Hey!"

"Admit it."

"Never, nerd." He put his tongue out, and she threw a napkin at him.

"Sore loser!"

"No, you're just wrong!"

They kept talking like they usually did, ending up in one of their usual spots, a bar halfway between her work and his. They kept talking and talking, ignoring the growing feelings they had for one another.

* * *

_And I've asked everyone,_

_I'm beginning to think I imagined you all along._

* * *

More time passed. Amy and Jake now had known each other for what felt like forever, and they kept their weekly ritual.

When Amy broke up with Teddy, Jake was there supporting her. When Jake started dating Sophia, Amy stood by him. When it ended with Sophia sourly, she made sure to cheer him up.

Things between the two were the best they'd ever been, even without acknowledging the feelings they held for each other. One day, in their now usual place, Shaw's, Jake let something slip out.

"You know, I liked you."

"What?"

This was in continuation of some conversation they were having, and it morbidly turned on the topic of being alone.

"Yeah. When you were with Teddy, all that time ago? I realised I had feelings for you."

"You clearly moved on." Amy grimaced. "Sorry, that sounded harsh. I just meant, you started dating Sophia, so you probably got over me." She sighed. "Like most people do."

"Hey, Teddy wasn't your fault! He was the most boring person I ever knew."

"Right? I can't believe I dated him for so long. I think the smell of pilsners makes me want to throw up now."

They laughed, and Amy came to realisation.

"Now that you say it, I might've liked you, too."

The buzz of the bar filled the silence between them.

"When?" Jake wondered.

"Probably when you were dating Sophia. But I had just broken up with Teddy, so I wasn't really sure about how I felt."

Jake grinned at her. "Let's make a toast." He lifted his beer.

She lifted hers. "To what?"

"Failed relationships and unknowable crushes."

They clinked the bottles together. "To failed relationships and unknowable crushes!" Amy said, a bit too loudly, giving them a couple of stares.

"Two drink Amy already at it!"

"Shut up."

* * *

_I elongated my lift home,_

_Yeah, I let him go the long way round._

_I smelt your scent on the seatbelt,_

_And kept my shortcuts to myself._

* * *

Amy was jubilant, yet miserable. She had never felt more confused in her life.

She had finally finished her big solo project, and it was a roaring success in her circle. The university even threw her a fancy party of such a feat, since it was mostly done in secrecy. It was a fancy one, and they could bring plus ones. Obviously, she decided to bring Jake along.

"Is this good?" Jake came out wearing a nice suit, and some cargo shorts.

"Ditch the shorts."

"You want me to go half naked?"

She just shook her head. "Please tell me you have formal pants to this event."

"I don't think so."

"Oh my God." Amy was about to go into overdrive mode.

"Ames! Relax. I'm kidding."

She punched his shoulder. "You idiot! You did this to me once in sophomore year and I hated it back then!"

"You loved me, back then."

Her heart jumped a little. "Wow, low blow."

He grinned. "I can only do these to you." Jake moved to his bedroom to change again.

"You know, that's not exactly nice!"

Now, why was Amy miserable? She'd fallen for Jake Peralta. Hard. And she didn't know what to do with all these bottled up feelings. Often times, she almost said it to him, how she wanted to become more than friends, but she never had the nerve. Mostly because she was almost sure that he didn't like her back. They'd done that once, and it didn't end well.

Jake came out again, this time with the right pants on, and she couldn't help but think of how well he looked.

"Drinking me up with that stare, are you, Santiago?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Peralta." She got up. "I'm going to go change now, and you better not peek!"

He put his hands in the air, but added something. "I've seen you naked, though."

"Oh my God, that's embarrassing."

Jake laughed, and Amy followed suit.

* * *

_I saw your sister in the Cornerstone,_

_On the phone to the middle man._

_When I saw that she was on her own,_

_I thought she might understand._

* * *

The party was filled to the brim with people that were speaking with words that Jake didn't even understand half of the time. Still, Amy was beside him the whole time, speaking with the same intellect he had only read about, all that time ago, before Paris.

They managed to resolve their problems regarding that issue with minimum fighting, talking about how they couldn't trust the other fully and threatening to permanently cut off altogether. They always apologized after things got particularly intense, so they reached a conclusion: no matter how bad it got, they would always meet halfway.

And that's what brings us to the present, with these fools in love with each other, but refusing to admit it. Jake awed about Amy's gracefulness and Amy was surprised at Jake's ease at catching up with her terminology.

Soon enough, they were both apart from the crowd, as everyone had already congratulated Amy on her good job.

"Pop that Chardonnay, baby." Amy said.

"I don't think this is Chardonnay." Jake said, looking at the bottle.

"I really don't care. Talking to all these people just make me exhausted."

"Is it because they're white?"

"Jake, you're white."

"Yeah, but I'm different." He said, in a mocking tone.

"Oh my God." Amy grabbed the bottle from him and popped it open. The loud sound from the cork echoed through the hall, and a general applause was heard. Amy smiled and waved, and then started pouring it on her glass.

"About time we get this party started." Jake said.

Classical music swelled through the hall, and Jake groaned.

"What is this? I want some real songs."

"These are real songs, Jake. It's a waltz, actually. People dance to it."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Amy took a sip of her glass. "To this day, even. It's usually something to get the ballroom started. They usually end concertos."

"Con-what?"

"Like concerts, only for classical music. It's Italian."

"So, you dance to them?" Jake smiled mischievously.

"Oh no, you don't. Now you don't."

"Come on! Give it a shot."

"I have two left feet! It's not happening."

"You won't know until you try it!" He stretched his hand to her.

She groaned and put the glass down. "Fine."

And took his hand.

* * *

_She was close,_

_Well, you couldn't get much closer._

* * *

Jake knew about Amy's dancing abilities, but they still managed on. Tripping here and there, they managed to join the main attraction on the hall's centre. Swirling around to the sound of the piano keys, Amy's blue dress circling Jake's black blazer.

"Does this ever end?" Jake asked her, after a few minutes of dancing.

"Some waltzes are bigger than others. You just have to deal with it."

She tripped again, and he held her tightly against him, purely out of reflex. Their hearts skipped a beat.

"All this time, and I still fall right into you." Amy sighed.

"If I fell, would you catch me?" Jake asked.

"Of course." She didn't hesitate.

It was all the confirmation they needed.

* * *

_She said, _

"_I'm really not supposed to, but yes,"_

* * *

They swayed from side to side, until the waltz ended. Lingering on the dancefloor, without anything to do, they stared at each other.

"I'm scared." He said.

"Me too."

"What if it doesn't work, again? I can't lose you twice, Ames."

"I don't want to lose you, too. And really, I think that's all we need, right?"

He nodded, and they moved in closer.

Their kiss seemed perfect, with the sound of the violins in the background being the only thing distracting them from the other.

* * *

"_You can call me anything you want."_

* * *

They quickly moved in together. The fear of things not working out always remained, but it soon was swayed by the pure friendship-turned-to-love thing they had. It seemed unbreakable.

A year in their relationship, they got married. It wasn't a big ceremony (only their closest friends and family went), but it was enough for them.

"Sometimes, I wonder what would've happened if we stayed together in college." Jake asked Amy, one day.

"Maybe we'd turned out the same. But I like how we are now."

They cozied up to one another.

"Me too."

They put a random movie, and just enjoyed the other's presence.


End file.
